Oddly enough, Isoult loved him the more for the very attack which she
had foiled. Odd as it may be, that is where the truth lies. As for
him, gratitude for what she had endured for his sake might go for
nothing. Men do not feel gratitude--they accept tribute. But if they
pity, and their pity is quickened by knowledge of the pitiful, then
they love. Her pleading lips, her dear startled eyes stung him out of
himself. And then he found out why her eyes were startled and why her
lips were mute. She was lovely. Yes, for she loved. This beseeching
child, then, loved him. He knew himself homeless now until she took
him in.